SweetWitch
Green Goddess
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2005
- Posts
- 20,370
It was a day like any other—wake to curse the light, threaten the kid repeatedly if she doesn’t get her butt in gear, trip over the cat on the way to the bathroom. Pretty typical.
Spent too much time enjoying my shower. The princess had to make her own lunch. Won’t let that happen again after seeing what she packed. Carrots and potato chips.
Too late now. I’m already 5 minutes behind schedule.
The guy in the Escalade in front of me is talking on his phone again. He’s always on the same path as me every morning, drinking coffee, flipping through papers and yelling at someone on the phone while he attempts to drive. It’s just lucky for him that other drivers are more attentive or his expensive ride would be at the local junk yard.
Oops, not lucky enough today. He side-swiped a garbage truck and is now face-to-face with a very large and very angry driver. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a grown man hauled through an open car window. Very entertaining. Now if I can just get around this mess and get to work on time.
Now 10 minutes behind, I finally arrive at summer school to drop the princess off. All the parking places are gone and people are lined up to get in. I hope they don’t mind my aggressive nature, but I’m going to just pull around them, get behind one of the parked cars and shove the kid out the door.
Blow a kiss, wave, back out. Glance at the clock. Shit!
Drive like a bat out of hell back to the main street. Almost pull out in front of black Dodge with a squealing bearing and smoke rolling from under the hood. Stop in time to see the obscene gesture offered by the driver. Yell, “Have you been saved?” out the window and laugh maniacally when the car almost hits on-coming traffic.
Drive fast. Pass my favorite breakfast place and get to my desk 2 minutes late with a growling stomach. Typical start to a typical day.
As I glance around at the tense faces in the cube farm, I realize this might not be just a typical day. Something’s wrong. The place is too quiet and where are all the supervisors? Just doesn’t feel right.
Beth is missing. No surprise. The poor woman has developed stress-related health issues. The two old broads across from me are lamenting the broken elevator again. Jesus. Learn to use the stairs. It’s called exercise, for crying out loud. Just shut up.
Annie, usually laughing at someone else’s stupidity, is abnormally quiet. She can barely look at me. Beth finally walks in. She looks like hell. Poor thing. Jay’s here, but he doesn’t offer his usual greeting. Something just ain’t right.
Time to take calls. Slap on the headset, force myself to sound cheerful, take the first call. In the middle of said call, a manager walks through and tells us to be in the meeting room at 11 for a “townhall” meeting. This can’t be good. She says to drop whatever we’re doing at the time and go. No, not good at all.
Annie shoots me a glance. Beth looks ready to puke. Jay tosses his stapler and it hits my wall. The old broads start gossiping.
At 11, I stop taking calls and make my way to the meeting. My stomach is in knots. My head hurts. I know what’s coming. The rumor mill has been working overtime over the past weeks. We all know it’s coming.
The meeting is 30 minutes of statistics and bullshit. The big head hoo-ha herself is conducting the meeting. Shit. Not good. She finally gets to the meat of the matter: The axe is falling today.
She won’t tell us who or how many, but many will no longer be employed at the end of the day. Now, be good little worker bees and return to your desks. Thank you for your attention.
Fuck.
Hell’s bells.
Damn.
I go to lunch. Stomach hurts. I drive.
My phone rings, on the other end, a dear friend. So good to hear his voice. He’s supportive. He’s making me laugh. I just adore him.
Back to work just in time to see the first victims escorted from the building. One manager, two HR people, a few others—all friends, all of them here longer than me.
At my desk, people around me are shaken. Some desks are empty. My supervisor looks like she’s been to hell and back. There’s the ring of metal, the whistle of air parting and the headsman’s axe falls again. A woman is crying—Sheila, single mom, husband killed in a wreck. She’s crying because the stress is just too much. I send her an IM and tell her it’s going to be okay. Annie gives her a hug.
Jay throws his stapler again hard enough to knock a framed picture of my daughter off the top of my wall. The callers are sensing the tension. One asks if everything is all right. Force a light, cheery air to my voice. It cracks as I give reassurances.
Barb is gone now, as is Garret. Damn.
Here comes my supe. She’s heading straight for me. Fuck. Oh, shit. Christ.
She’s smiling. The old broads nearly faint. Beth stands. Annie gasps. We wait.
Jay throws his stapler and his keyboard.
“It’s over,” the supe says. “It’s all over now. All the reductions that they’re going to make are done. We can all relax now.”
Relax? Relax! Fuck relax.
There’s a collective sigh of relief. Jay sticks his head over the wall to apologize to me. I wave him off and wonder if I can make it to the bathroom or if I should just vomit in my trash can.
Three hours.
Spent too much time enjoying my shower. The princess had to make her own lunch. Won’t let that happen again after seeing what she packed. Carrots and potato chips.
Too late now. I’m already 5 minutes behind schedule.The guy in the Escalade in front of me is talking on his phone again. He’s always on the same path as me every morning, drinking coffee, flipping through papers and yelling at someone on the phone while he attempts to drive. It’s just lucky for him that other drivers are more attentive or his expensive ride would be at the local junk yard.
Oops, not lucky enough today. He side-swiped a garbage truck and is now face-to-face with a very large and very angry driver. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a grown man hauled through an open car window. Very entertaining. Now if I can just get around this mess and get to work on time.
Now 10 minutes behind, I finally arrive at summer school to drop the princess off. All the parking places are gone and people are lined up to get in. I hope they don’t mind my aggressive nature, but I’m going to just pull around them, get behind one of the parked cars and shove the kid out the door.
Blow a kiss, wave, back out. Glance at the clock. Shit!
Drive like a bat out of hell back to the main street. Almost pull out in front of black Dodge with a squealing bearing and smoke rolling from under the hood. Stop in time to see the obscene gesture offered by the driver. Yell, “Have you been saved?” out the window and laugh maniacally when the car almost hits on-coming traffic.
Drive fast. Pass my favorite breakfast place and get to my desk 2 minutes late with a growling stomach. Typical start to a typical day.
As I glance around at the tense faces in the cube farm, I realize this might not be just a typical day. Something’s wrong. The place is too quiet and where are all the supervisors? Just doesn’t feel right.
Beth is missing. No surprise. The poor woman has developed stress-related health issues. The two old broads across from me are lamenting the broken elevator again. Jesus. Learn to use the stairs. It’s called exercise, for crying out loud. Just shut up.
Annie, usually laughing at someone else’s stupidity, is abnormally quiet. She can barely look at me. Beth finally walks in. She looks like hell. Poor thing. Jay’s here, but he doesn’t offer his usual greeting. Something just ain’t right.
Time to take calls. Slap on the headset, force myself to sound cheerful, take the first call. In the middle of said call, a manager walks through and tells us to be in the meeting room at 11 for a “townhall” meeting. This can’t be good. She says to drop whatever we’re doing at the time and go. No, not good at all.
Annie shoots me a glance. Beth looks ready to puke. Jay tosses his stapler and it hits my wall. The old broads start gossiping.
At 11, I stop taking calls and make my way to the meeting. My stomach is in knots. My head hurts. I know what’s coming. The rumor mill has been working overtime over the past weeks. We all know it’s coming.
The meeting is 30 minutes of statistics and bullshit. The big head hoo-ha herself is conducting the meeting. Shit. Not good. She finally gets to the meat of the matter: The axe is falling today.
She won’t tell us who or how many, but many will no longer be employed at the end of the day. Now, be good little worker bees and return to your desks. Thank you for your attention.
Fuck.
Hell’s bells.
Damn.
I go to lunch. Stomach hurts. I drive.
My phone rings, on the other end, a dear friend. So good to hear his voice. He’s supportive. He’s making me laugh. I just adore him.
Back to work just in time to see the first victims escorted from the building. One manager, two HR people, a few others—all friends, all of them here longer than me.
At my desk, people around me are shaken. Some desks are empty. My supervisor looks like she’s been to hell and back. There’s the ring of metal, the whistle of air parting and the headsman’s axe falls again. A woman is crying—Sheila, single mom, husband killed in a wreck. She’s crying because the stress is just too much. I send her an IM and tell her it’s going to be okay. Annie gives her a hug.
Jay throws his stapler again hard enough to knock a framed picture of my daughter off the top of my wall. The callers are sensing the tension. One asks if everything is all right. Force a light, cheery air to my voice. It cracks as I give reassurances.
Barb is gone now, as is Garret. Damn.
Here comes my supe. She’s heading straight for me. Fuck. Oh, shit. Christ.
She’s smiling. The old broads nearly faint. Beth stands. Annie gasps. We wait.
Jay throws his stapler and his keyboard.
“It’s over,” the supe says. “It’s all over now. All the reductions that they’re going to make are done. We can all relax now.”
Relax? Relax! Fuck relax.
There’s a collective sigh of relief. Jay sticks his head over the wall to apologize to me. I wave him off and wonder if I can make it to the bathroom or if I should just vomit in my trash can.
Three hours.
